


Proposals

by Gorned



Series: Snapshot Series [2]
Category: X-Men Origins: Wolverine (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 09:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/685626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gorned/pseuds/Gorned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three snapshots of every time Wade's proposed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proposals

The only time Wade ever gets sick while on the team, it’s because he managed to side-step vaccinations from his nurses before getting sent on a mission to India. Like the dumb, not-graduated-from-highschool nineteen year old that he was, Wade drank the local water. With ice, nonetheless. He thought he’d be a manly big-shot on his first real solo mission. Little did he know that not only would he fail his objective, but come down with a crippling sickness that would have Stryker threatening to drop him.

Laying in sickbay by himself those first few days, sweating and nauseous, Wade has never been more scared in his life. His nurses come and go while he slips in and out of sleep, delirium. His head pounds more and harder every time he wakes up and his heart stops momentarily every time he opens his eyes to a dark, empty room. Stryker’s going to let him die. Wade isn’t comforted by the fact that his nurses have started doing regular check-ups on a new guy. Older, more experienced. He doesn’t have any powers like Wade, but apparently he has skill to more than match him. Wade can’t compete with that. He’s sick and can’t prove his worth. He feels like he’s never going to get better and if he even does, he has to go toe-to-toe with the new guy who can probably kill him with a pinky finger.

Wade lays in bed and doesn’t let his nurses try to give him medicine. 

“ _…Shortly Tom came upon the juvenile pariah of the village, Huckleberry Finn, son of the town drunkard. Huckleberry was cordially hated and dreaded by all the mothers of the town, because he was idle and lawless and vulgar and bad…_ ”

Wade’s eyes open and he blinks blearily, mouth open-closing because his tongue feels like beef jerky and not even the good kind. He shifts in bed, groans when he realizes he’s laying in sweat-soaked sheets that feel gross against his skin.  He lays there for a moment more and stares up at the beige-colored ceiling, listening to the voice drawling from beside him.

“ _…Tom was like the rest of the respectable boys, in that he envied Huckleberry his gaudy outcast condition and was under strict orders not to play with him. So he played with him every time he got a chance…_ ”

There’s a pause and Wade turns his head, puppy-brown eyes finding the deeper, wearier brown of Logan’s. Logan is sitting in a chair that he’s tilted back on two legs, his feet crossed at the ankle as they rest on the edge of Wade’s bed. Wade thinks he looks like a badass, even with the old book in his hands.

“What’re you doing?” Wade asks, voice hoarse.

“Readin’ t’you, dumbass. Heard you got sick.” Logan says. Wade flushes and looks away  and not because of the disapproval coloring Logan’s tone — of course not. Wade still has a fever. That’s right. Fever. He kicks off the blankets he managed to tangle around his body while sleeping.

“Failed my mission, got sick. Getting replaced on the team because I’m a screw up.” Wade rasps back, wiping frustratedly at his sweaty face with sweatier palms. “I’m gonna die here.”

Logan lets his chair drop to four legs again. He slaps away Wade’s hands and uses a cool, damp washcloth to wipe at his face instead. “Y’ain’t gonna die, drama-queen.” He says gruffly. “And y’ain’t gettin’ replaced. New guy’s throat got slit two days ago. Thinkin’ it was Victor but I ain’t a hundred percent sure.”

Wade wants to argue, wants to yell all of his teenage insecurities at Logan and tell him to leave him alone to rot in this stupid, uncomfortable bed. He wants to cry and scream and tear his brain out because it’s throbbing so bad and his stomach hurts and he can’t stop shivering even though he’s so hot. His throat feels like it’s swelling shut and he’s sore all over and, and and — Wade’s thought processes stop completely as Logan wipes the washcloth over his face again, down his neck and over his bare chest. He takes a big breath and melts back into the lumpy mattress.

“Yer gonna be fine.” Logan says, quite matter-of-fact as he picks up the dog-eared book again. He tilts his chair back onto two legs, resting his feet once more at the edge of Wade’s bed for balance. Wade wants to burst out into hysterical laughter because how can Logan just say he’s going to be fine? How can he know? He doesn’t. He can’t. Wade starts to panic on the inside again but… He looks at Logan, really looks at him. He’s so beautiful in his tank top and jeans, his stupid-giant belt buckle. He looks so… Sure. That Wade’s going to be alright. The tightness in Wade’s chest starts to go away and he even smiles a little bit. Delirious kind of smile, but still a smile.

“What’re you reading to me?” he asks.

“Adventures of Tom Sawyer. S’about a stupid little kid like you. Mark Twain.”

Wade nods and shifts, bunching up his pillow and laying on his side so he can stare at Logan. Logan skims his finger along the pages, trying to find the last place he’d left off. 

“Will you marry me, Logan?” He asks. The question makes Logan look up, his brows knitting as he frowns a little more deeply. There’s a quiet, then Logan looks back down, resuming his search.

“I ain’t gonna marry you. Now shut the hell up and let me read, kid.”

* * *

 

It’s Wade’s twenty-first birthday and he thinks he’s going to die. He’s been stabbed, shot, and he’s pretty sure that one of his broken ribs is digging into his lung. He convulses and tries to breathe, struggling. His vision is blacking out and he thinks he can see a pretty lady with a skull for a face reaching out for him. He wants to lift his hand, feel her bony fingers grasp his so she can take him somewhere nice. Somewhere tropical, maybe. It would be a nice reprieve from the cold snow that he’s laying in, that he’s tainting red with his blood.

“Don’ go to sleep.” Logan is holding him, putting pressure on some of the more worse wounds. Wade thinks that Logan might be rocking him back and forth, but his brain might just be acting up because it’s starting to not get enough oxygen. He wants to tell Logan that some pretty lady with a skull-face is here and trying to take him to Hawaii, but the only thing that comes out of his mouth is blood. He spits it out and coughs, groaning because it hurts. He hurts.

“Zero’s comin’ with the ‘copter and we’re gonna get you to a hospital, get these holes fixed. C’mon, c’mon, c’mon… You’ll make it. You’ll live and crack your stupid jokes and we’ll finally take you out for a good beer… C’mon…” Logan says and Wade thinks he’s more talking to himself than anything, silly guy. He blinks his eyes open wide, trying to look up at Logan, tell him that it’s okay if he has to go and be dead. He’s not some scared teenager anymore. He’s lived enough. 

…

Or has he? Wade still hasn’t done a lot of things in his short life. He hasn’t lived in a real house by himself. Hasn’t driven a car. He hasn’t gone to a club or had a vacation. He hasn’t settled down with that perfect someone and had two point five kids and a dog. 

Wade musters up all the energy he has. He lifts a hand and skims his fingers over Logan’s jacket, right over where his dog-tags would be resting underneath his clothes and against his chest. He tries to lick away the blood on his teeth so that when he grins, it isn’t so gruesome. His calm gaze meets Logan’s panicked one.

“Will you marry me, Logan?” He asks.

Logan barks out a laugh of disbelief. He looks skyward as the wind picks up around them. He lifts Wade into his arms and staggers to his feet. The helicopter makes it way closer to the ground.

“I ain’t gonna marry you, Wade. Hold on a little longer, kid. We’ll get you patched up good.”

* * *

 

It’s just a matter of days before Wade has to go see Stryker about the thing in his head. He’s been dreading it for awhile now, but… It’s something that needs to be done.

[ _Actually. No it doesn’t. You don’t have to go._ ]

_Oh, so now you’re on my side again, brain? Timing. You don’t have it._

Wade is stretched out on his back, using Logan’s thigh as a pillow. His own long legs are dangling off the side of the bed but he doesn’t really care. He’s too comfortable to move. Actually, to be honest, this is probably the most uncomfortable position he could have chosen to be in. Logan, however, looks so settled. He’s sitting back against the headboard, reading some old book of poetry or philosophy or something that Wade has absolutely no interest in. One hand is holding the small book up and the fingers of the other are busy running through Wade’s hair, pushing from his hairline and back. Every slow drag of those heavy fingers makes Wade want to sigh happily. His legs are going numb from lack of proper circulation but he can’t seem to care enough to move.

[ **We need to ask him, though.**   _At least sit up to ask him_.]

_Okay, fine. Fine._

Wade sits up. He ignores the scowl Logan gives him when he gently pulls the book out of his hand. What Wade has to say has been weighing on his mind for quite awhile now. He dog-ears the page for Logan and sets the book aside. He straddles Logan’s waist, fingers toying at the hem of Logan’s shirt.

“Jamie.” Wade says before Logan can start. He squirms and averts his eyes. “You know I love you a lot and stuff. I think I’ve loved you since I first met you. Remember when we met? When you and Victor joined the team and Stryker brought you both into that conference room to meet the rest of us. I think… I knew I loved you when you walked into that room, all agitated and deadly and pissed and beautiful in your army greens. You were so perfect, then. You’re perfect now. And I know that we’ve only really been together for more than a few months but I’ve loved you for, like. Thirty years, man. That’s a long time. And I know you love me now, too, and that we have the rest of forever, so it doesn’t have to be soon or anything but. Jamie…” Wade finally looks up, insecure but so hopeful, trusting. 

“Will you marry me? …Eventually?”

Wade feels like he’s falling in those long seconds where Logan just stares at him, eyes wide with surprise. They’d discussed marriage before, briefly. But this is sudden. Wade squirms but doesn’t break their eye contact. He relaxes when he sees Logan smile at him. Wade’s heart starts to knock against his ribs with his excitement. He’s practically vibrating with anticipation. Good anticipation, because he feels like he knows Logan’s answer already.

[ **Well duh. This is a flashback.** ]

_Shut up and let me have my moment._

“I..” Logan starts to say. He stops and takes a breath, letting it out before trying to talk again. “Yeah, Wade. Yes. I wanna marry you. It’d be… Yeah. Why not?” He lets out a chuckle and lifts his hands, cupping Wade’s face so he can kiss him soundly.

“Finally.” Wade mutters when they break apart for air. He laughs, giddy. “We’re engaged! Took you long enough to say yes, old man. Let’s get awesome blinged out engagement rings. I want to have the biggest rock on my finger, like stupid big. Or I’ll just get you a Ring Pop for a ring. That’d be fun, right? And when do you wanna get married because I really don’t mind waiting. I mean, I waited this long. I think I can wait a few more months or years or whatever you want — “

“Wade. Shut up and lemme kiss you, kid.”

“Right! Shutting up. Okay. Sweet. You got it, fiance.”

“Good.”


End file.
